Seeing Colors
by SaoirseParisa
Summary: "We get sad because...your mother...died so early in life. You barely got to know her. We get sad because she left this world far too quickly, and it's right unfair." Colin wants to paint a picture of his late mother. Belated Mother's Day tribute to all moms everywhere.


**A/N** : So...I caved. I just proposed to my bachelor of choice in Trio of Towns, and I'm already writing a new fic for it. One thing I really like about the Harvest Moon series is how well-written the little kid characters are, and those kinds of characters are very easy to mess up. Colin is one such example, and I've fallen in love with this little sweetie pie (I married Yuzuki, just so you know)! God, he's a precious, cuddly cinnamon roll! I NEED TO WRITE ABOUT HIM! And thus, this silly little oneshot was born! Hope you enjoy it and all the Colin cuteness!

* * *

Colin paused as he watched the light blue paint he just brushed dry onto the canvas. Paintbrush still in hand, he took care to hold it over his wooden paint palette so none of the paint dripped onto the floor. The light blue sky on the canvas slowly took in the sunlight coming through his window, soaking it in and drying itself out. The once white canvas now donned a messy, colorful picture depicting a red bird-he heard his father say it was a cardinal-flying across a pale blue sky, accompanied by white clouds, white as his favorite Pyrenees dog, Buddy.

Holding the wooden end of the brush to his mouth, Colin kicked his legs up and down, lost in thought as he gazed upon the picture he painted. It was his eighth in what was once seven paintings he had done all month. But his pale blue eyes, pale as the painted sky he created, scanned his latest creation with a kind of dissatisfaction. Somehow, one way or another, it didn't look...good. It was like something was missing. Something that could have made this flying red cardinal look better than how he painted it. Somehow, it didn't quite meet his standards. To the untrained eye, people would say that Colin painted a perfect picture of a cardinal. Colin put his paintbrush and palette down on his desk, figuring it was time to stop for today.

"Hey, Buddy," Colin turned around on his seat to look at the white dog snoozing on the floor. The white Pyrenees' body rose and fell with every breath, and his eyes were shut. The dog was lost in dreamland. "Do you think this birdie looks better than the watermelon I painted?"

Being a dog, Buddy didn't answer. He simply continued to snooze the day away, his large, snow white tail giving a small wag. Colin huffed.

"Yeah, I could have done better," Colin answered to himself, pretending that Buddy did reply. Little Colin knew that dogs couldn't talk, but he liked to imagine that Buddy secretly could. After all, Buddy was his buddy. His best friend. Well, his best animal friend, of course.

Even so, Colin couldn't help but feel like his new painting wasn't up to par. Better yet, none of the paintings he made all month looked good to him. A cow standing in the middle of a green, grassy field. Rabbits playing in a pile of maple leaves. Butterflies fluttering about in a flower garden. His friend Noel licking a lollipop she got from the nice florist lady, Lisette. He even drew a picture of just the sun, and even that didn't seem to satisfy him. Colin couldn't seem to figure out why, and he usually loved painting scenery the best. What was it about his pictures that left him so...dissatisfied?

Unable to find an answer, Colin simply left his new painting to dry and retreated to his bed. He pulled out his favorite book of bugs and looked through the pages. Pictures of insects and small paragraphs of information on every bug graced every page. Damselfly. Desjardin's Beetle. Dewdrop Spider. Dried Fruit Moth. Drugstore Beetle. Earwig. Not even his favorite book of bugs could give Colin the answer he yearned for. Still, it was kind of fun to look at the bugs and learn about what parts of their body did what. Humans definitely didn't have thoraxes. Then again, that was probably a fancy word for their belly.

"I bet caterpillars have really big bellies if they can eat big leaves," He mused to himself, his pale blue eyes looking at one page in particular. It showed a caterpillar eating a leaf twice its size.

As usual, Buddy didn't respond. Colin didn't mind this time.

Being a child, Colin often found himself imagining things, entranced by all the world's wonders, whether it be nature's bounties outside, or the things he learned through the books his grandmother would get for him. Colin began wondering what it would be like to be a caterpillar. He could live in grass and eat whatever he could find. But eating leaves would definitely be out of the question. Yuck! His face scrunched up just at the thought of eating a leaf. He had tried it once before when he was four, and it tasted bland, crunchy, and gross. Definitely not an experience he wanted to repeat. Instead of leaves, maybe he could eat his favorite animal shaped cookies. The same ones his father said that his late mother often made for him. A much better idea.

His mother…

Suddenly, a spark lit inside him unlike any he had felt before. That's it! "I should draw a picture of Momma!" Colin suddenly blurted out. His voice was so loud that Buddy was pulled out of dreamland. The Pyrenees rose to his feet in alarm, his muzzle turning to and fro like a bird examining its surroundings.

"Arf!"

"Oh! Did I wake you, Buddy? Sorry," Colin apologized, hopping from the bed and stroking Buddy's head with one hand. "Guess what? I'm gonna try and paint a picture of Momma!" He announced it with enthusiasm, but it immediately died when he suddenly hit a wall. "But does Dad still have pictures of her?" He crossed his arms, ruminating. "I'll have to ask him or Grandma if I can borrow one."

Another wall suddenly sprang up. Whenever Colin had mentioned his late mother in the past, both his father and grandmother would frown, staring down at their feet like they were at a funeral. They did it even when they were happy just seconds before, when something nice was happening, like if they were having a nice dinner or if Colin made little heart-shaped paper cutouts for Mother's Day. Seeing them sad was like being at a funeral, and funerals were sad things. Colin didn't want his father and grandmother to be sad. Still, the spark to paint his mother's portrait still blazed within his chest.

"Well, I'm still gonna try and paint her. I don't see why I can't," He said to no one in particular. No one but himself.

"Colin?" A brusque voice suddenly cut through the silence of Colin's bedroom. His curly orange hair bounced as the little boy whirled towards his bedroom door. A large, bulky man with matching hair and eyes stood in front of his room, his small but thick mustache concealing his mouth.

"Y-Yeah, Pa?" Colin sputtered, startled by the sudden presence, his heart racing faster than normal.

"Your grandma wants ya out on the farm," His father told him in a low, deep voice that left no room for nonsense. "She needs help with brushin' the cows."

"Okay!" Knowing that was an order Colin couldn't afford to refuse, the boy darted out of his room, down the stairs, and out onto the farm.

Colin wanted to start finding pictures of his mother right away, not brush the cows, nice as they were. Any little boy his age would eschew the idea of doing chores in favor of more fun activities. In Colin's case, drawing, catching bugs, or playing with Noel. Still, he didn't want to make his father angry, so the boy went out to help his grandmother, using the big brush to wipe all the dirt out of the cow's fur. Still, brushing the cows was a nice chore. Running the brush through their fur, up and down, pulling the dirt out. The cows liked it, often mooing in thanks. It was nice. But even as he brushed and brushed, thoughts of painting his mother still lingered in his mind. An image of a woman flashed. Deep, chocolate brown hair. Dark green eyes. Light skin, with a few pock marks here and there. Slender fingers. A pretty purple and white dress. A soft, gentle smile.

"Colin? Colin!" This time, the raspy voice of an old woman pulled the boy out of his reverie. "Goodness, are you daydreaming again?" She asked, her arms crossed in front of her chest. With a yelp, Colin pulled the brush off the cow and stood before the old woman. He could see that she didn't look angry, but rather perplexed.

"Yes, Grandma?"

"I've called your name three times now," His grandmother told him. "I said you can go back to your room now. I can take care of things from here."

"Oh. Sorry. Thanks."

"Is something bothering you?"

Shaking his head, Colin said, "Nope! Everything's fine! I was just thinking what else I should paint."

A smile spread across her wrinkled face. "Oooh. That sounds nice. If you ever get around to it, show it to me and Hector when you're done."

With a nod, Colin returned to his room until dinner time. Tonight's meal was a big favorite: mashed potatoes, white rice, and carrots. Colin often said to his father that if he could, he would live off mashed potatoes forever. His father simply laughed at the thought. "I bet you could, kiddo. I bet you could," He had said. To Colin, mushy potatoes were like heaven on his tongue. He ate his dinner slowly, savoring each delicious bite as he listened to his father and grandmother talk amongst themselves about stuff he didn't understand. The dining room was warm and smelled like fresh, buttered potatoes. Buddy simply sat next to the dining room table, watching the old woman with prodding eyes, silently begging for any scraps she could feed him.

"Ohhhh no, Buddy!" Colin's grandmother waved her fork at the white dog slowly. "You're not getting any scraps this time!"

It didn't take long for Colin's father and grandmother to finish their meals first, leaving Colin alone at the table. He didn't mind. He liked taking his time to eat all of his food, whereas most kids his age would be fussy and picky. Eventually he did finish and put his dishes in the dishwasher. He noticed his father in the corner of the house, in front of his desk, reading the newspaper. Maybe Colin could ask him if he had any pictures of his mother he could borrow. Use as reference material. With that in mind, Colin ambled right up to his father.

"Pa?"

Even though he used a small, meek voice, it was enough to get his father's attention. "Mm? What is it, Colin? Need somethin'?"

"Hector!" Colin's grandmother suddenly called out. "Do you remember where I put my red bonnet?"

"Wasn't it in your purse?" Hector called back. Then he lowered his voice. "Sorry 'bout that. What is it?"

"Ummm...I was wondering…" Immediately, Colin was at an impasse. The question seemed so easy to ask, but getting it out was proving to be difficult. He still had to try. "Do you have any...pictures of Momma anywhere?"

Hector's eyebrows turned diagonally. Colin knew that look all too well. It was his father's sad face. It hurt Colin's heart to make his father sad.

"Why do you ask?"

"Well…I want to paint a picture of Momma," He explained matter-of-factly, hoping he wasn't making his father mad. "I never painted her before, so I want to try it."

Suddenly, Hector rose from his seat, putting his newspaper down and walking away. Colin frowned. Did he upset his father after all? Hector didn't say anything. He just up and walked out. Colin immediately regretted asking him. Why did stuff like this have to be so hard? Then, Hector came right back, holding a framed picture in his hand. The frame was pure white, with little flowers and swirls etched into both the upper right hand and lower left hand corners. The picture itself showed a pretty young woman, smiling right at them. Her deep brown hair tumbled all about, going down to her lower back, and her dark green eyes were soft and gentle. She was wearing a pretty purple dress with long sleeves.

The bottom of the frame had letters etched into it. It read: Dominica Rubens, Age 39. Dominica was his mother's name, though Colin mostly referred to her as Momma.

"Will this work?" Hector simply handed it to Colin.

Surprised but grateful, Colin slowly took the picture from his father's hand. His mother looked exactly like he imagined her. This would be a great picture to use. "Thanks, Pa!"

Then, a smile appeared on his father's normally gruff face. "Yer welcome, kiddo. That's my favorite picture of her," He sat back down on the chair, putting himself at Colin's level. "This was taken when you were about three. Her sister got married, and she got to be one of the bridesmaids. This was the dress she wore, and she loved it dearly. Purple was her favorite color."

Colin listened in awe. He never knew that about her. He knew a little about her, but not that she had a sister or that she liked purple. "What was Momma like?" Colin found himself asking without meaning to.

Hector continued on. "She was a lovely woman. Sweet as can be. She didn't mind that I don't talk much. She was quite a talker. She could talk the ears off a monkey, that's for sure. She liked to make up stories, and said she wanted to write a book, but she wasn't very good at it. Every book she wrote got rejected by publishers. She even got bad grades in creative writing when she was in school. That made her some sad. Speaking of that, she named you Colin because Colin was the name of a character in a book that she liked."

A character in a book? Colin's eyes widened in interest. "Wow! Really?"

"Yes sirree. Soaring Venus was her favorite book ever, and she loved the boy Colin. She wanted to name her child after him, she liked him so much," The man ruffled his son's hair with his big, rugged hand. Colin giggled, relishing in the gesture. "And you just so happen to be that boy."

"Why did she like Colin the character?" He asked.

The stories about his mother continued. Hector explained that Colin was a sweet boy who was chosen to become a king and fight an evil demon who threatened to destroy his kingdom. But Colin was often scared. He was always frightened, but kept on trying to do his best anyway. That was what Dominica liked about him: he wasn't perfect. But he worked hard and got his reward for being true to himself and never wavering in his love for others, even if he himself wasn't the best person at times. When Hector conversed about his wife, his whole persona seemed to change. The atmosphere around him was warm, and he seemed to glow with a radiant, happy energy. Colin definitely liked this change a lot, and his father was normally averse to talking to people. Nothing like how sad Hector looked just a little earlier.

A tiny spark of courage rose in his heart. Colin figured now was a good time to ask. "Pa? Why do you and Grandma get sad when I talk about Momma?"

Hector fell silent, having finished talking about his late wife.

"Is it bad if I talk about her?"

"No no no. Not at all, kiddo," He wrapped an arm around his son and pulled him close. "Don't ever think that, Colin. It's not bad at all," His deep, gruff voice softened, trembled a little bit. "We get sad because...your mother...died so early in life. You barely got to know her. We get sad because she left this world far too quickly, and it's right unfair. Right unfair," He shook his head dejectedly.

"Unfair?"

"She wanted to do so much," Hector continued on, like he was pushing himself to do so. "She wanted to see you go to school. Graduate from college. Grow up and become whatever you wanted, like an artist or a farmer or an engineer. She wanted to grow old with me and spend all of her years with the family. She wanted to share stories of her childhood with you, help you with whatever you needed, and be there for you through thick and thin, like if you had to deal with bullies, a cruel friend, or other hardships."

It was strange how a person's life could seem so long, and yet it was so easy for it to suddenly be cut short. Colin asked how she had died. Hector explained that his mother had diabetes, which is when there's too much sugar in the blood, and the body is unable to produce insulin, which regulates it, for some reason. Sometimes she would have seizures, usually from injecting too much insulin than necessary. She often had trouble knowing how much insulin she needed to inject into her system. One day, she had a particularly nasty seizure, and she fell, hitting her head on a hard object. Whether it was a rock or a brick that happened to be nearby, neither Hector nor his mother could remember. She was taken to the hospital, but it was too late. Her brain was too badly damaged, and she died.

Colin could feel tears on his cheeks. It was all an unfortunate accident. An accident that could have been prevented. Now Colin understood why Hector said her death was unfair. Then again, there was nothing anyone could do. His mother didn't want to be sick, and she didn't want to die. Even Colin knew that sometimes, bad stuff just happens.

"Your Ma wanted to see her little boy live his life and grow into a strong, kind man," Hector held his little boy close. "And you're already such a good little boy. I only wish she were here to see you now."

"Yeah. Me too," Colin melted in his father's embrace. His arms were big and strong, but warm and kind. Comfortable. They didn't squeeze him too hard, but they protected him.

Then, Hector sighed. "How about we talk about your Ma sometimes. The happy stuff, not the sad stuff."

Colin nodded in agreement. "Yeah."

"There's a lot to talk about with her. Oh! You wanted to paint a picture of her, right? Get to it, then! Your grandmother and I wanna see it when yer finished."

There was no way Colin could possibly ignore that request. He didn't want to. That was all the approval he needed. "Okay!" With that, Colin raced to his room, ready to get started. He pulled out another canvas, put the picture of his mother on his desk, and began painting.

* * *

It took Colin exactly two and a half straight hours to finish his painting. He did have to take some time out so he could take a bath, go to the bathroom, and go to bed. But once he found the time, he devoted all of it to painting his mother. He had never felt so energized in his life. He went back to painting as soon as he woke up the next morning, determined to finish. Paint was all over the old shirt that he wore to protect his clothes, said shirt having once belonged to his father. Hector handed it to Colin because it was too small to fit anymore, and looked too dirty. Perfect for getting paint all over it. Right as the morning sun shined her light into his room, making everything glow in golden yellow, Colin finally put his paintbrush down.

He was finished. But he didn't get the time to really admire his new work. Voices from downstairs took his attention away from it.

"Oh! Hello, Noel! You're here early today!" His grandmother exclaimed.

"Hi, Granny Megan!" A little girl's voice replied. "Mama said I could come and play today! Is Colin here?"

Megan didn't need to call her grandson down, even though she was thinking about it. Colin was already descending down the stairs. Standing in the dining room were Megan and a young girl about his age, about eight or nine. Noel was a lively, sprightly little girl, Colin's best friend and favorite playmate, with fiery orange hair tied into braided buns, sparkly blue eyes, and was often wearing a pretty little yellow checkered dress underneath a pink and white pinafore, along with pink striped stockings and white shoes.

"Hi, Noel!" Colin greeted her the minute he came right down the stairs.

Noel's blue eyes lit right up. "Colin! Morning! I came to play again! Want to play tag or something?"

"Sure! But before that, I wanna show you something!" He gently took Noel's hand into his own. "Come on up to my room and see."

The two children bounded up the stairs in a flash, right as Hector ambled into the room. Both Megan and Hector smiled at them from afar. "Goodness. Kids these days always have so much energy."

"Indeed they do," More than that, Hector's heart warmed at the sight of his son playing with Noel. As far as Hector was concerned, Colin deserved to live a full, happy life full of joy. He silently hoped that Dominica was watching over them in heaven and happy to see that things are going well.

As soon as the kids came up to Colin's room, Noel took in a sharp, surprised breath. A canvas stood against the wall, and a picture of Dominica Rubens completely dominated it. Colin smiled as he showed Noel his newest painting, looking almost proud. Dominica's hair was scraggly, but full of life. Her green eyes were as soft and welcoming as ever. Colin added a subtle pink blush to her cheeks, hoping it'd make her seem a bit more real, like she was really still here. He even remembered to dot her face with some of the pockmarks she had, which were in the original picture. He didn't want to miss a single detail. The purple dress she wore was thick, but still beautiful, like it could have belonged to a queen.

Noel clasped her hands together, and a huge smile cut right through her cheeks. "Wow, Colin! This is beautiful! Did you paint this?" The girl leaned in closer to get a better look.

"Yep! I finished it this morning. It's my Momma," He explained.

"She's really pretty! I think this is your best painting yet! The best ever!" Noel exclaimed without a hint of irony.

As far as Colin was concerned, Noel was right. It was his best picture. Better than the other ones he had painted recently. He even managed to figure out why his other paintings didn't seem up to par. They had no zeal. No passion. Colin had only painted them to pass the time, out of boredom. That didn't make his other paintings bad. Of course not. Still, he couldn't bring himself to be wholly proud of them. On the other hand, this one...made him feel nothing but pride. Colin could feel his cheeks heat up, and he let out a laugh before running a small hand through his orange hair.

"Thanks," Colin told her gratefully, feeling a little sheepish. Then again, when wasn't he sheepish? "I've been wanting to paint her for a while, but I never got the chance."

"Have Mr. Hector and Granny Megan seen it yet?" Noel asked curiously.

"Nope. I can show it to them now."

"Yeah! Let's do it!"

With that, the kids showed the painting to Hector and Megan. To say they were amazed would be an understatement. They were absolutely brimming with joy. No surprise, they loved the painting that Colin made. Seeing the joy on their faces made Colin feel like a king. This time, they were happy to see and talk about Dominica, his mother. No longer were they sad. True, her death and the fact that she was no longer alive was sad, but that didn't mean they couldn't celebrate the life she lived.

Next time, Colin decided, he would paint a picture of his whole family, all together.

* * *

 **Notes** :

1\. The surname I gave to Megan, Colin, and Hector comes from a famous Flemish artist named Peter Paul Rubens, who painted in the Baroque style. He often painted portraits, pieces depicting mythological subjects, scenery, and history scenes. Many of his religious themed paintings, such as "The Elevation of the Cross" and "The Descent of the Cross," are used in churches. He was often used and referenced in a popular book/anime series, The Dog of Flanders, which is one of my favorite anime of all time. But the book is kinda meh.

2\. Colin's mother isn't given an official name in canon as far as I know, so I gave her the name Dominica Rubens. Her death isn't given an explanation either, so I made one up just for this oneshot. Also, all of Colin's interests: painting, catching bugs, liking potatoes and mashed potatoes, are explicitly confirmed in the game and are canon.


End file.
